


Problem

by mushembra



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Jamison can't handle the death of innocents and Mako comes to his rescue, M/M, Mania, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mild Gore, Panic, Stimming, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 22:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7660330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushembra/pseuds/mushembra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roadhog has a serious problem, and it goes by the name of Junkrat.</p><p>Junkrat and Roadhog got word of a suit who plans to tear down a nearby town for land development, and had the brilliant idea to rip him off and run him out. But when they find it's too late, Mako comes to Jamison's aid to help him pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Problem

**Author's Note:**

> I love these boys! LOVE THEM!
> 
> It makes me happy to see a character who's neuroatypical, which isn't all too common. Poor fellows have been through so much!
> 
> I see Junkrat as being capable, but with his mind being ruined by radiation as it is, Roadhog sometimes needs to come to his rescue to save him from himself. He needs a calm and stoic force in his life.
> 
> I wanna write ALL THE THINGS!
> 
> Oh and forgive the shit ending  
> I was having difficult finishing this one out to my liking so...

Roadhog had a problem, a big problem, and it came in the form of the most unpredictable, manic human being he has ever had the irritation to meet; one Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes. It’s been a year since he was hired by the Junker to be his protector, promised 50/50 of this treasure he had knowledge of and of whatever haul they snagged from their thieving sprees. He had to admit, the wiry bastard was bloody brilliant at scheming and building and crafting, but holy shit he was a handful. Most times he could handle himself, but the problem came when he was far too hyped by mania to keep himself composed. He’d start to ramble nonsense, a string of words that didn’t quite form a sentence. His body would shake, and honestly it looked like he’d shudder himself into a seizure or something. His actions would become dangerously impulsive. It was a whirlwind storm of destruction, which could easily be solved by wrapping one of his meaty hands around the poor man’s neck. It would be so easy to snap. So easy.

But Roadhog had to admit, it could be much worse. Hell, he’s dealt with much worse. He’s been hired before by some real fucking drongos. Sure, he was a one man apocalypse and there was hardly a soul in the Outback who could take him on in a fight and keep up. But if his employer was wreckless and got themselves in a situation where he couldn't intervene in time, what did they expect the result to be? Didn’t bother him one bit. Finding a new employer or some other odd job was never hard. But then came along the little rat, who has definitely broken the record for the longest run spent alive under his watch. There were many times he really should have died; blown himself to pieces, crushed by falling rubble, trauma from a long fall that damn near shattered his prosthetic. But Junkrat always managed to pull himself up with a crazed laugh, a lopsided grin, and a thumbs up. And he could do nothing but reply with a grunt and a shake of his head. He certainly wouldn’t be this lucky forever.

“…oadie? Earth ta Roadiiiie? OI! Ya big lummox! Gonna miss the turn!”

Roadhog shook himself out of his thoughts, having drifted off elsewhere while taking a long stretch of dirt road to their destination. Junkrat had heard about some suit setting up a construction gig out near a small town on the outskirts of Sydney. Something about real estate or land development or some shit. He didn’t really care about the details. All he knew was the man was convinced this guy was 1) loaded with cash and 2) in need of a serious lesson.

“Can’ believe the _nerve_ o' these damn suits! Fucking bludger prob'ly never worked a day his damn life! An’ he think _he_  has the right to snatch up people’s homes for _land development?!”_

Roadhog honestly could care less. If you were going to survive out here, you needed to learn how to fight for your life, and often kill, or perish. But there was someone else deep within him, someone else who cared, and he blamed Junkrat for bringing this feeling of humanity back. Mako Rutledge had cared an awful lot about his fellow Aussie’s, the little people who struggled just to get by, and he was absolutely outraged some garbage suit thought the land would be better for development rather than leaving well enough alone. Let them live their lives. What the fuck did he know? Damn it, he shouldn’t care. It was a dog eat dog world out here in the Outback, and caring was a show of weakness. But he couldn’t help but care. 

“Bloke has _no_ idea what he’s gotten himself into! Ooooh what a _lovely_ day for some mayhem! Gun it up, Roadie!”

Roadhog gave a growl, then roared his bike into high gear, taking the turn sharply, then thundering towards the town dead ahead. Looked like a pretty typical wrecked up town, until they pulled up closer to it. There was an air of unease, and it was starting to get to Junkrat, who was fidgeting about in the sidecar more than his usual show of impatience. He already had a concussion mine in hand, trigger fiddled with nervously in the other. He was always so damn trigger happy when he was nervous, which worked in their favor sometimes, but others it made a situation much more disastrous. Only time would tell which sort of situation this was, but from the looks of it, it wasn’t any good. The town seemed completely uninhabited, but not in a way that would suggest the residents had packed up and left. There were personal effects scattered all about, doors to homes and run-down businesses wrenched wide open. It was as if the people here just vanished in the middle of their daily lives. A very bad sign.

Roadhog pulled the bike up to an old servo, powering it down before gathering up his weapons, knuckles white with how tightly he held onto them. Junkrat was already way ahead of him, having clamored out of the sidecar to hobble about in jerky motions as he took stock of their surroundings. His mania was already starting to escalate, radiation damaged mental state deteriorating as his anxiety surmounted within his chest. He made a mental note to keep close tabs on his ticking time bomb of an employer. The lumbering Aussie had to admit, though, that this whole affair had him quite on edge, too. Seeing a town abandoned in such a way was common to see after the Omnium explosion, when residents were fleeing the aftermath. Now a days, this is something you saw when people were driven from their homes into a firing line for the sake of 'exterminating the rabble for the greater good'. This was suspicious, and he didn’t do good with suspicious.

“Blimey, it’s a right ghost town ‘round here, ain’t it?”

Roadhog responded with silence, standing close enough to the Junker so that his arm brushed against the other’s . Mako knew that his presence could bring some small comfort, ease the nerves, at least for a little while. They both advanced with much caution, venturing further into the abandoned town with a feeling they wouldn’t at all like what they found. There was more evidence the residents hadn’t packed up; food strewn about, work left unattended. When they came upon the center of town, where a larger building (assumed to be the town hall) stood, makeshift signs lay all over the place. All of them were variations of the same; protests against the suit’s company taking their land and their homes. And caked in the dirt is just what Roadhog was expecting to find; splatters of blood. A high pitched, keening whine came from Junkrat, and his eyes were crazed and blown wide open, taking the scene, and likely coming to some grim realizations. The tremors gripping his body were getting worse. It was starting to look more and more like coming here for a score was a very bad idea. Nothing was worth throwing him into an attack.

“They…they’re ‘lright. Right, Roadie? I-I mean they…bet they put up a good ol’ fight an’ they just…hidin’ out, right?”

Roadhog wanted to tell the idealistic numbskull the bitter truth, but Mako didn’t have the heart to tell the poor bastard what he already knew. He’s seen this before. When his land was taken, you were given one opportunity to pack up and leave. If you were one of the rebellious whackas who decided to fight the suits to keep your home, then you either ended up badly beaten, left to rot out in the middle of fucking nowhere, or you were slaughtered. It all depended on who you were at the mercy of, and by the looks of it the mercenaries were given the o.k. to unleash all hell on these sorry folks. Weren’t even given the chance to haul off even if they would have done so grudgingly. He glanced down to Junkrat, who was hunching slightly lower than usual, a hand tugging at the strap across his chest as he teetered back and forth uneasily, obviously trying to run the gears in his head to sort out their next move. But he knew the gears in his head were starting to stall, and his thoughts were becoming disconnected.

“Nothin’ here. Should go little ‘Rat.”

Roadhog could see this was a waste of time and was just going to trigger an episode. Mako, however, wanted to protect him from seeing what he knew was ahead; the mangled corpses of the residents. Killing wasn’t the problem, it was the killing of innocents and the down-trodden that got to the Junker. He never took it well. In fact, Junkrat always reacted explosively, shrieking as he launched off every explosive on his person to destroy the fuckers who had the audacity to destroy lives without an ounce of regret. And that’s just what was on the horizon now. The man lurched forward, eyes frantically looking this way and that, searching for any sign of survivors. He had already placed his first mine, and was now staggering about placing more in ‘strategic’ places, a crazed yet weak laugh shaking his frame.

“No, no, Roadie. We gonna find these people, then put that fuckin’ mongrel down as he deserves!

“No.”

This was an all around bad idea. They needed to hightail it out of here, and they would have, if it weren’t for the fact that all of this internalized indecision gave Junkrat a chance to run off on him, already on the hunt for the survivors that didn’t exist. Oh fucking hell, he was in for a nightmare of a time. With a deep and heavy sigh, Roadhog peered about slowly in search of where his little Rat could have gotten off to. The footprints and a dropped explosive from his launcher indicated he took off for the interior of the town hall, which makes sense given it was splattered with gore, exterior walls and porch floor boards clawed up from struggling victims. Pretty typical, but Mako could feel his stomach starting to flip, anticipating the horror show he was to find inside. It never got easier for him, no matter how cold hearted and ruthless Roadhog was. He steeled himself, took a steadying breath, then stepped inside.

The first thing Roadhog noticed was the smell. It was pungent and assaulted the senses with such an intensity. The mask was meant for filtering out particulates in the air, not blocking out smells. The stench was that of gunpowder, smoke, and the reek of decay. This must have been ground zero of the massacre. It was always easy to find the scene of the crime here in the Outback, because it was always brutal and messy. He felt dismembered limbs and organs crunch and squish under his heavy footfalls, a slick of mess coating the wooden floors of the building. Whoever did this obviously took much joy in killing, without an ounce of remorse in their hearts. Murder and mayhem was his forte, but Roadhog at least killed with a measure of discrimination, despite his lack of humanity. Definitely the work of mercenaries who were willing to do anything for some quick cash. Too many of those cropping up these days.

The second thing the large Aussie noticed were the distressed sounds of his employer. Mako found it both disheartening and alarming, because he knew what to expect when he found the little ‘Rat. He followed the sounds to the open meeting chamber, and the stench, to someone unused to something so foul, made the man’s stomach do flips. He never got used to that smell, even if he seemed unphased by it. It always brought flashes of the day his home was taken away, how desperately he tried to save his fellow farmers, how he turned out his stomach at the sight of those poor innocent bastards being slaughtered like livestock when they refused to leave. If it weren’t for Roadhog giving him a deadened lens for which to see the world through, it’s likely he would have perished long ago, still trying to fight against this rotten world and stand up for those who couldn’t do so for themselves. His eyes searched among the bodies for the one that moved, but it was pretty easy to spot the little ‘Rat skittering about, a manic and uneasy laugh cackling out of his trembling frame. It’s what he did when it became too much, when he was nervous and overwhelmed.

Mako watched with a deep sadness as the Junker went from body to body, trying to help them up, as if there were possibly anyone left alive. It was honestly pretty painful to watch. Poor bastard. Never handled such tragedies well, likely because it reminded him of his own life, his own losses. He could empathize, neither of them have had it easy, but Junkrat's mind being affected so much by the radiation really didn't help matters any.

“C-Come on, mate! They ain’t here no more. G-Get up! UP AN’ AT ‘EM!”

“’Rat. Dead. Not gonna get up.”

“Shut it ya yobbo! They…they gonna be ‘lright! I ain’t gonna…gonna let no damn suit beat ‘em down!”

This wasn’t Junkrat talking. This was Jamison, the poor boy who had his life ruined by the Omnic Crisis, by the explosion that turned his home in the Outback into an irradiated wasteland. This was the boy that still wanted to believe in a better life for the beaten down that the upper crust of society paid no mind to. And it broke Mako’s heart to see the poor bastard trying so hard to no avail. They were too late. Jamie now picked up a bloodied and tattered teddy bear, pulling the remains of some faceless child in his good arm, as if to cradle and comfort him. It made the large Junker feel sick, his chest getting tight, leaving him wheezing uneasily behind his mask.

“Come on. They gone. We’ll help ya find yer mum and…a-and…”

Mako could practically see the point when the young man snapped, when the reality he tried to keep blinders up against surged over top of him, smothering him. Jamison dropped both the bear and child, his breaths coming in and out in hasty wheezes. Here comes the explosion. A cackle came out between those wheezing breaths, the young Junker staggering to his feet as he dug hastily through the pouch at his side. Out came that explosives trigger again, and before the beast of a man could lurch forward to stop him, a twitchy finger pressed on the button, and the deafening sound of explosions surrounded the structure, making it rock on it's foundation. Mako braced himself against a nearby wall, watching with helpless eyes as Jamison let an enraged howl rip from his throat, then made off to barrel out on the attack; not that there was anyone left here to attack. Damn mercenaries came and gone a long time ago if the state of decomposition was any indication.

Mako, once he regained his bearings, made his way outside, and was met by the sight of his crazed ‘Rat lobbing explosives out of his launcher in all manner of directions, yowling and screaming to the heavens as the painful emotions consumed him completely. He needed to put a stop to this before he got himself hurt. He couldn't afford to lose anymore limbs.

“COME OUT HERE AN’ FACE ME YA WUSSES! I’LL BLOODY DESTROY YA FER THIS!”

The abandoned town was becoming a charred, burning mess, a testament to poor Jamison’s pain over such senseless killing. It was quite terrifying, and unnerved even big ol’ Mako, who didn’t quake in the face of anything. It wasn’t his boisterous loudness or the unnecessary destruction, but just how out of control he was of his emotions and self. And that’s why he needed to be here for the Junker all the more. Anyone else would run away, fearful, or abandon him to destroy himself, as he certainly would in time if left to his own devices. But Mako saw something to be hopeful about, saw someone worth protecting and saving. Jamison gave him purpose when there was none left in him, and drew his humanity back out when Roadhog had preferred it remained buried forever, where it would never have to bother him again. He really was full of surprises.

“Little ‘Rat.”

No response. Just an echo of maniacal laughter that was mixed with despair. Mako edged towards the young man, watching as he made himself dizzy with all of his spinning and staggering about. His actions were disconnected and incoherent, just as his mind likely was. It gave him the opportunity to move in with a rush of adrenaline, hooking Jamison with his arm before flipping himself over to fall onto his back, so that he wouldn’t crush the smaller man. Jamison was rather dazed at first, but was quick to start thrashing in the larger man’s arms, going red in the face from all of his screeching.

“LE’ ME GO! FUCK OFF YOU LARD ASS!”

“Stop.”

“FUCKIN’ MAKE ME WHY DON’T YA?!”

Despite all of the struggling and the sharp teeth that sank into Mako’s hand, he held tightly onto the distressed Junker, letting a rumble grow in his chest, hoping the sound would soothe him at least enough so that he’d stop lashing out. It took a couple of moments, but Jamison started giving up the fight, running out of steam, frazzled by his broken emotional state. He was still snarling rather angrily, but the larger man could see the sadness and pain written all over his face. Little ‘Rat was shaking like a leaf, the anxiety from when they first arrived taking hold once more. Mako could feel the poor thing starting to hyperventilate against him, eyes flicking this way and that, searching for something, anything. Probably an answer for all of this death and violence, for a reason why these heartless sods could do such a vile thing. But there was no answer; never was, never would be.

“Roadie…R-Roadie I…why didn’ we get h-here sooner? We…w—we could have…”

A horrible, weak laugh came out of Jamison’s mouth, and suddenly, without warning, he started absolutely sobbing hysterically. The distraught wails broke Mako’s heart, and it was even harder to watch the young Junker starting to yank at his thin and fraying hair, frantically pulling clumps and strands out. It was one of his anxious tics and part of why at such a young age he was already starting to lose it all. The large man let out a heavy sigh, sitting himself up with some effort before situating Jamison on his lap, supporting his heaving body with one arm while he gripped the chain of his hook with his free hand.

“Jamie.”

The sobbing little Jamison looked up to him through red, puffy eyes, managing to focus his frantic attention on the masked man for a moment before he could hold it no longer. Seems he needed to do something a little more drastic. Mako seldom if ever took his mask off. Hell, before he met his new employer, he hadn't for a many number of years. But sometimes, the young Junker just needed a little bit of closeness, a show of trust, a show of just how special he was. So, without any hesitation, he undid the buckles of the mask and slid it off, revealing a scarred and beastly face, warped by years of radiation exposure and combat. It was a face he was none too happy with, but Jamison not only was unafraid of his appearance, he's told him time and again how enamored he was with the tough and rugged look. Always made Mako laugh.

"Jamie. Look at me."

Jamison looked up once more, this time locking with Mako's soft brown eyes. His attention held this time, and once he knew the young man was listening, he handed over the chain with much insistence. He knew just what little 'Rat needed when he was over-stimulated, overloaded with emotions, and that was something to fiddle with. Jamison took the chain into his hands, letting fingers roam over the different surfaces and textures. Finally, the sobs started to calm to a gentler crying, little hiccups rocking against the large Junker's stomach. Mako let out a sigh of relief, wrapping an arm around the other's middle. Crisis averted.

"There. Deep breaths. In. Out."

Mako took deep breaths against the young Junker's back, urging him to follow the lead. He was glad to see Jamison calm down further, jingling the chain in his hands, turning it this way and that. He could see the gears starting to turn again, a look of thought coming to his face. And he knew just what was going through the young man's head; guilt.

"Ya think...if we got here soona...we coulda saved 'em?"

"No use thinkin' it, Jamie. It happened. Nothin' we can do."

"Fuckin' bastards..."

Mako let himself rumble again, nuzzling his face into the young man's neck. He could feel the tension there melting away. Poor bloke was beating himself up way too much over this. Went along with that nagging sense of self-loathing. But he was always here to remind Jamison that despite the difficulties he endured because of his disability and illnesses, he was one of the most capable people he's ever met, and the one person he's come to trust since the disasters that rocked Australia and brought it to it's knees.

"Mate, look at me."

Jamison did as he was told, looking into those soft brown eyes again. He reached a hand towards Mako's face, asking with a pleading look for permission to touch it. The large man had reserves about physical affection. He's never been one for it, and it was part of why he became a solar farmer, living off of the land out on his own. Perhaps it was partly because of his large size and the harrassment he got from it as a child, or maybe it was how he's been betrayed time and again throughou his life. But for little 'Rat, he was willing to open up and trust, and he appreciated that he asked for permission before reaching out. He gave a small nod, and felt could fingers stroke across the many planes of his face, and was happy to see a small, lop-sided small pull up on that thin and tired face.

"What matters, is you woulda done what was right. Ya woulda saved 'em. Ya might be a crazy bastard, but yer not heartless."

That earned a light-hearted giggle, Jamison pressing into his eyes to wipe away what remained of the tears. It was good to see his thin measure of sanity returning. The poor thing couldn't always keep control, but Mako would settle for being the one thing that could bring him back down to Earth. 

"Thanks mate...needed that. What would I do without ya?"

Mako didn't want to answer that question, didn't even want to think about it.

"Won't let that happen. So, how 'bout we find those fuckers and teach them a little lesson?"

"Oi, that's a  _bloody brilliant_ idea! No one should be able ta get away with somethin' like this!"

Mako let loose a bellowing laugh and a shake of his head as Junkrat popped up eagerly to his feet, that thrumming energy returning at last. Silly little bugger. Roadhog has a problem, a major problem by the name of Junkrat. But Mako found salvation thanks to the help of a crazy Junker named Jamison Fawkes. Life wasn't easy, and their road was bumpy, but he honestly wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
